There is but one May in the year, And sometimes May is wet and cold… There is but one May in the year Before the year grows old. Yet though it be the chilliest Ma…
I wonder if the sap is stirring ye… If wintry birds are dreaming of a… If frozen snowdrops feel as yet th… And crocus fires are kindling one… Sing, robin, sing;
Downstairs I laugh, I sport and j… But in my solitary room above I turn my face in silence to the w… My heart is breaking for a little… Though winter frosts are done,
My baby has a mottled fist, My baby has a neck in creases; My baby kisses and is kissed, For he’s the very thing for kisses…
Somewhere or other there must sure… The face not seen, the voice not h… The heart that not yet—never yet—a… Made answer to my word. Somewhere or other, may be near or…
I took my heart in my hand (O my love, O my love), I said: Let me fall or stand, Let me live or die, But this once hear me speak—
She stares the livelong day; Her wig of gold is stiff and cold And cannot change to grey.
The peacock has a score of eyes, With which he cannot see; The cod—fish has a silent sound, However that may be; No dandelions tell the time,
Consider The lilies of the field whose bloo… We are as they; Like them we fade away, As doth a leaf.
On the grassy banks Lambkins at their pranks; Woolly sisters, woolly brothers Jumping off their feet While their woolly mothers
Promise me no promises, So will I not promise you: Keep we both our liberties, Never false and never true: Let us hold the die uncast,
Frost—locked all the winter, Seeds, and roots, and stones of fr… What shall make their sap ascend That they may put forth shoots? Tips of tender green,
Oh, for the time gone by, when tho… Made His Yoke easy and His Burde… When my heart stirred within me at… Of Altar spread for awful Euchari… When all my hopes His promises su…
Margaret has a milking—pail, And she rises early; Thomas has a threshing—flail, And he’s up betimes. Sometimes crossing through the gra…
If the moon came from heaven, Talking all the way, What could she have to tell us, And what could she say? ‘I’ve seen a hundred pretty things…